Tiny White Flowers

Tiny White Flowers

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Bristol Palin on 'Shooting with the Stars': Wisconsin man casts lead vote against her dancing

Bristol Palin on 'Shooting with the Stars': Wisconsin man casts lead vote against her dancing


Man Shoots Television over Dancing With the Stars. So, apparently the Palins are waltzing their way to the White House.

A few minutes ago DA called me, in hysterics, because she’d just left a long message on someone’s answering machine about last night’s Dancing fiasco. And while she was doing so, a woman answered the phone, slightly out of breath and saying “I’m here! I just walked in,” only to find out it was a wrong number.

The message would have been something like this: Last night on Dancing with the Stars, when it came time to tally up the call-in votes – who will stay, who will leave the show – Bristol Palin remained in the dance. This announcement came as a shock to all, as contestant and viewer jaws dropped. It seems Bristol’s clumsy moves were glossed over and hyped up by hidden Sarah supporters. Mom attended most of the productions.

Oh, and there was at least one viewer opposed to her lasting as long on the show as she has – a Wisconsin man, angered at her inability to dance, went upstairs to get a gun, returned and shot his television.

The upshot? Could a Sarah as president win come in the same, unforeseen way? One consolation: somewhere, the recipient of a wrong number call is now party to the joke.

Monday, November 15, 2010

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled by Olena Kalytiak Davis : The Poetry Foundation [poem] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled by Olena Kalytiak Davis : The Poetry Foundation [poem] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.

From the Poetry Foundation~

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled

by Olena Kalytiak Davis

Reader unmov’d and Reader unshaken, Reader unseduc’d
and unterrified, through the long-loud and the sweet-still
I creep toward you. Toward you, I thistle and I climb.

I crawl, Reader, servile and cervine, through this blank
season, counting—I sleep and I sleep. I sleep,
Reader, toward you, loud as a cloud and deaf, Reader, deaf

as a leaf. Reader: Why don’t you turn
pale? and, Why don’t you tremble? Jaded, staid
Reader, You—who can read this and not even

flinch. Bare-faced, flint-hearted, recoilless
Reader, dare you—Rare Reader, listen
and be convinced: Soon, Reader,

soon you will leave me, for an italian mistress:
for her dark hair, and her moon-lit
teeth. For her leopardi and her cavalcanti,

for her lips and clavicles; for what you want
to eat, eat, eat. Art-lover, rector, docent!
Do I smile? I, too, once had a brash artless

feeder: his eye set firm on my slackening
sky. He was true! He was thief! In the celestial sense
he provided some, some, some

(much-needed) relief. Reader much-slept with, and Reader I will die
without touching, You, Reader, You: mr. small-
weed, mr. broad-cloth, mr. long-dark-day. And the italian mis-

fortune you will heave me for, for
her dark hair and her moonlit-teeth. You will love her well in-
to three-or-four cities, and then, you will slowly

sink. Reader, I will never forgive you, but not, poor
cock-sure Reader, not, for what you think. O, Reader
Sweet! and Reader Strange! Reader Deaf and Reader

Dear, I understand youyourself may be hard-
pressed to bare this small and un-necessary burden
having only just recently gotten over the clean clean heart-

break of spring. And I, Reader, I am but the daughter
of a tinker. I am not above the use of bucktail spinners,
white grubs, minnow tails. Reader, worms

and sinkers. Thisandthese curtail me
to be brief: Reader, our sex gone
to wildweather. YesReaderYes—that feels much-much

better. (And my new Reader will come to me empty-
handed, with a countenance that roses, lavenders, and cakes.
And my new Reader will be only mildly disappointed.

My new Reader can wait, can wait, can wait.) Light-
minded, snow-blind, nervous, Reader, Reader, troubled, Reader,
what’d ye lack? Importunate, unfortunate, Reader:

You are cold. You are sick. You are silly.
Forgive me, kind Reader, forgive me, I had not intended to step this quickly this far
back. Reader, we had a quiet wedding: he&I, theparson

&theclerk. Would I could, stead-fast, gracilefacile Reader! Last,
good Reader, tarry with me, jessa-mine Reader. Dar-
(jee)ling, bide! Bide, Reader, tired, and stay, stay, stray Reader,

true. R.: I had been secretly hoping this would turn into a love
poem. Disconsolate. Illiterate. Reader,
I have cleared this space for you, for you, for you.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Just one more thing -

Via a Facebook friend, I've been turned on to another blog I think I'll seriously enjoy.  It's called Nerdy Apple Bottom  -  Cop's Wife does not remain silent.

The post that got me there was this:

"My Son is Gay  (post title)

Or he’s not. I don’t care. He is still my son. And he is 5. And I am his mother. And if you have a problem with anything mentioned above, I don’t want to know you.
I have gone back and forth on whether I wanted to post something more in-depth about my sweet boy and his choice of Halloween costume. Or more specifically, the reactions to it. I figure if I’m still irked by it a few days later, I may as well go ahead and post my thoughts.
Here are the facts that lead up to my rant:
  1. My son is 5 and goes to a church preschool.
  2. He has loved Scooby Doo since developing the ability and attention span to sit still long enough to watch it.
  3. Halloween is a holiday and its main focus is wearing a costume.
  4. My son’s school had the kids dress up, do a little parade, and then change out of costumes for the rest of the party.
  5. Boo’s best friend is a little girl
  6. Boo has an older sister
  7. Boo spends most of his time with me.
  8. I am a woman.
  9. I am Boo’s mother, not you."

 To read more of this blog post :

In these days of bullying and working through gender identity, and hoping to find a common ground, I find it good to talk like this.  Openly, and without fear.  With faith that it will be okay in the end.  That discovery is the key to many good things in life.  That a little support along the way from loving people make all the difference in the world.

Prompting Poetry - Where to go to get a jumpstart

Here are some links to poetry prompts to get you going, if you're like me today, and are in need of a little kickstart:

The Journal : http://www.davidrm.com/thejournal/tjresources-exercises.php#poetry

Poetic Asides:  (for Poem A Day prompts): http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/

From 32 Poems:  http://www.32poems.com/blog/815/poetry-prompts

From PoeWar:  http://www.poewar.com/poetry-prompts/

Writing Forward:  http://www.writingforward.com/category/prompts-2/poetry-prompts

From Tupelo Press:  http://www.tupelopress.org/poetryproj.php

From Book of Kells:  http://ofkells.blogspot.com/2008/04/30-writing-prompts-for-national-poetry.html

There are many more - these are just a few good ones~


How We Get There

How We Get There, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Some parts of the journey are clear, others . . .

Dream, Maple Leaves/Seeds

Dream, Maple Leaves/Seeds, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

What was tough was altering the color of these vibrant maples for the effect of making it more antique. But, worth it, for me.

Ways of Seeing, #2

Ways of Seeing, #2, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Water as mirror, as window.

Still Life with Maple Leaves, Water

Water make a good mirror, and gives a different way to seeing a leaf, or a tree.

Degrees of Decay, #2

Degrees of Decay, #2, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

I love the veins in leaves, how color eventually blends with gravel and dirt, and begins again.

Still Life With Trash, #4

Still Life With Trash, #4, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

Similarly, with trash, as long as it's biodegradable. My aim was to see if I could make art with the litter I found on my walk.

Degrees of Decay, #3

Degrees of Decay, #3, originally uploaded by salmonbear7.

I love how we can "watch" the way leaves return to the earth, feeding it.

Friday Freewrite, and Photos

How easy it is to give in to distraction.  It is already 5 November, and I've not written a poem yet.  The reason this is troublesome to me is that this is Poem A Day, the half-birthday of NaPoWriMo, which is in April.  I think it's good to have a poetry writing month more than once a year.  So why am I procrastinating?

It seems I spend so much time just looking at "stats," that is, my blog stats, my poetry submission stats, my Facebook stats.  I mean really, how long does this really need to take?  Okay, so some things are necessary, like upgrading to pro on my Flickr account, which I just did.  Now there are more "stats" to keep track of. 

But, the photo thing has helped keep my sanity somewhat tethered.  I might not be writing poems, (though I am determined to write at least one today), I have been creating "eyepoems," as one friend put it.  And why not?  When my creativity isn't coming out in the form of words, then why not in color and textural image? 

I like the word textural.  It describes how I view the world around me.  I love the grooves in tree bark, the skin of poppies, the taste of internal rhyme in the mouth. 

Textural - Definition and More from the Free Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Definition of TEXTURE

a : something composed of closely interwoven elements; specifically : a woven cloth b : the structure formed by the threads of a fabric
a : essential part : substance b : identifying quality : character
a : the disposition or manner of union of the particles of a body or substance b : the visual or tactile surface characteristics and appearance of something texture of an oil painting>
a : a composite of the elements of prose or poetry texture impressive and exciting — John Berryman> b : a pattern of musical sound created by tones or lines played or sung together
a : basic scheme or structure b : overall structure
tex·tur·al\-chə-rəl\ adjective
tex·tur·al·ly\-rə-lē\ adverb
tex·tured\-chərd\ adjective
tex·ture·less\-chər-ləs\ adjective
*   *   *
I also like that the word "text" begins the word "texture" and "textural."

So, I'll post some photos from Flickr, and get to the business of actually "writing" a poem.  We'll see how I do~

And you?  How are your poems coming?  I'd love to hear what you're working on these days.


Thursday, November 4, 2010

Thursday Poem

by Jeffrey Harrison   

It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.

It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go.

From Poets.org today~

Monday, November 1, 2010

Kelli Russell Agodon interview

Martha Silano interviews poet Kelli Russell Agodon on her blog, Blue Positive.  Kelli's newest book, Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room was this year's winner of the White Pine Press Poetry Book Award.  If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it.

Here's a little teaser:

Interstellar (& Very, Very Exclusive) Interview with Kelli Russell Agodon

Kelli Russell Agodon (www.agodon.com) stopped by the other day at Blue Positive to talk about her brand spanking new poetry collection, Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room, winner of the White Pine Press Poetry Prize. Kelli's previous books are Small Knots (2004), and the chapbook, Geography, winner of the Floating Bridge Chapbook Award. She lives in the Northwest, where she is an avid mountain biker and the editor of Seattle’s literary journal, Crab Creek Review. Here she reveals process and product secrets, including how a black bra and a black hole collided, resulting in a poem titled "What the Universe Thinks of Lingerie."

For more, please visit:


Whoo hoo! Great job!

Happy Halloween from the Two of Us


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